


flutter.

by idealistside



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, sometimes you're gay and terrified then terrified realizing how much you're gay, yet another Hubert Goes Flying work to throw into the mix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idealistside/pseuds/idealistside
Summary: hubert confronts one of few anxiety-inducing troubles -- and a softer sentiment.





	flutter.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't done anything like this in 3 years, so have mercy! something simple while i find my writing groove.

Apprehension swells to the thrum of a cicada’s song -- more a mocking laughter, perhaps, when beneath the moon and well past the hour they knew to sing. As if it knows what Hubert is here for in this night-lit clearing, with muscles taut and features distorted into something certainly pathetic. 

There’s regret to be found in his decision to invite company -- to have anyone bear witness to such a childish show of fear, despite having craved an audience exactly to _ assuage _ that fear. At the very least, it’s an audience of only one (or three, if the stunning pegasus and irritating cicada meant a thing), and unlikely for anyone unwanted to come along. 

When Ferdinand had pressed and _ pressed _for this secret training, distance was Hubert’s one requirement. A venture away from the monastery -- “no matter how many cycles of day and night,” he had exaggerated -- was his demand. Of course, Ferdinand met that exaggeration with his own (“No matter the reason, I would be happy to travel with you for a twelvemonth!” or something saccharine of the like), and so they departed in the evening, under the guise of important business. Not that it made Her Majesty any less suspicious, or less concerned. 

Apologies are in order. Some to Ferdinand, as well. 

Hubert twists at the waist to peer over his shoulder, at the man sitting beneath an ironic moonlight. Somehow, Ferdinand’s aura is left undisturbed, as his smile burns with an unrivaled radiance when their eyes meet. 

“Have you gained your composure?” Ferdinand asks, rising to his feet before waiting for the answer. 

Hubert hesitates. “I haven’t.” It’s too much. He hadn’t even _ thought _ to attempt this again, among the chaos of a half-decade and, simply, because he didn’t want to. Learning to settle with a proficiency in magic would just have to do... 

...So how miserable he felt when this sad little secret slipped over last night’s dinner rendezvous. 

_ Heights are unbearable. _

Three words that were enough to ignite Ferdinand’s drama, the eccentric character firing off declarations about heights being fascinating, in tandem with murmurs of surprise, concern, selfish delight that Hubert had even opened up in such a way, and a newfound dedication to remedy the issue. 

It was … cute. 

But mostly awful. 

Ferdinand is at his side now, a firm hand dropping against Hubert’s shoulder -- and for a gesture so simple, Hubert feels his stomach twist. 

“Not to worry. Overcoming a fear is more of a challenge than bearing the fear at all, that much is true. But, helping you in the process is precisely why I am here, after all!” Again he smiles, now brimming with something bold, free hand clenching into a fist. “I am delighted you can rely on me, Hubert!”

…Too genuine. Pale chartreuse eyes focus on the empty air before him. 

“Does it come as a surprise? You _ are _ noteworthy for your skill while mounted, are you not?” 

“Have you only brought me here due to my finesse as a cavalier?” It’s a rhetorical question, so Hubert answers with nothing but the driest of looks. Ferdinand huffs, head raising in haughty awareness. The man knows he’s become a reliable friend. Trusted more than most, even, second only to Her Majesty. Something closer to loved than loathed, against all predictions. 

Hubert watches with curious attention as Ferdinand returns to the moonlight, silhouette glowing ivory and sun-touched hair flowing freely behind him, striding to the pegasus that idled with lesser grace. Remarkable that such simple movements began to take Hubert by surprise -- enough so that it’s become notable, among humiliating remarks from Edelgard and now with Ferdinand’s perplexed stare. 

All a welcome distraction from the rising dread, at least. 

“Hubert…?” comes a patient voice. “Are you too frightened to even approach her? She is the same lady that brought us here , you know. Although we never took to the sky, her elegant movements on land should be telling...”

“No. That is not the problem.”

“Well… If you have found the courage, please do hurry.” Ferdinand mounts the “lady,” settling into the stirrups and pulling his hair over his shoulder, braiding it loosely. “You could not possibly imagine the excitement I feel, knowing I’m moments from banishing this fear of yours!” 

..._ Sure_. 

But there’s a level of relief that comes with such a bold and incorrect proclamation, and ever-so-slightly, Hubert’s nerves loosen with each step to the pegasus. The confidence dissipates the moment he’s atop the beast, however -- not that the current height is so unsettling, but the imagery of what’s to come certainly is… It helps none remembering that this is only one of few trials proposed as well, and what if he yelps during...? 

Ferdinand straightens his back with a cursory glance over his shoulder, enthusiasm bright in amber eyes. “Are you ready?” _ Gods, no. _ “If it comes down to it, there is no shame in ordering me to descend, but before you think to do so... Please remember that you trust me.”

Arms wreathe Ferdinand’s waist, a chill that bleeds hot permeating through every vein.

“...You need not trouble yourself with reassurances, appreciated as they are.” Hubert sighs. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

“If you’re certain… Then, off we go!” 

Muscle shifts beneath them, completely familiar and yet still feeling _ so _ much more like a trot towards death. But they’re still grounded, and Ferdinand is still here. It’s the same, all the same. 

_ All the same, _ Hubert scolds himself. But in moments, it isn’t, for the reassuring sound of hooves-to-grass becomes the distressing sound of hooves to _ goddamn nothing_. 

He’s desperate to inform Ferdinand that this truly can’t be done; he can’t go on without becoming a shaking mess or fainting or -- well, _something_, but -- _ugh!_ He’s not dead yet, and provided there isn’t any warning sign that he might be soon, he needs to bear this. For his pride, his duty, and a friend who believes this is worth the world. 

To glance at what’s below remains a step too wide, though. However high they are, Hubert doesn’t wish to know yet, and instead dwells in the heat of Ferdinand’s body, torso pressed into the firm planes of a sturdy back, eyes shuttered against the skin of his company’s neck. Hubert counts a steady pulse there. One ... two ... three ... four…

…

Fifty. The peace endures until then.

Despite himself, the plane of Hubert’s subconscious is abandoned for an endless sky, a trembling body, and the weight of a hand upon his own. 

Fingers intertwine, Ferdinand’s touch upon his skin as grounding as it is embarrassing. At the very least, it’s not foreign; the garden alcove, the monastery’s darkest corners, their private quarters -- all locations marked with tender words and desires unspoken.

"Hubert," Ferdinand begins with a tightening grip, pleasant in the pressure but disconcerting in what it can feel. Knowing it's futile, Hubert attempts to still his fingers, earning a comforting stroke across the back of hand. "It is alright. But I have to ask that you look now--"

"I _ kindly _refuse."

"Even if you do not glance below?"

Hubert’s silent. Beneath his breath, Ferdinand laughs. "I meant the sky above us, Hubert. I am here with you, so please try."

Silence lingers, patience endures, and Hubert lifts his head. Never had he thought to look _ up _. 

And it's breathtaking, truly, to see the sky’s expanse with no obstacles. To see innumerable stars -- a silken moon and the light that fringed shadows he knew so well. 

To be beyond a world wrought with war. To _ be _ at all, if only for a moment. 

Yet the stars feel no closer. There's still eternity there, and nothing safe, no control should they fall -- 

“I’m happy,” says Ferdinand, voice delicate. “No… Sharing this with you makes me euphoric. It is as though we are the only two in the world.”

_What…? _Hubert sinks against the redhead again, features distorted and panic returning. “With me, that is nothing to write home about, Ferdinand.”

“But it is! How many people can say they’ve pressed their fingertips against the summit of the world with you?” Ferdinand raises an arm, fingers splayed, brushing at the sky as though caressing glass. 

_ The summit of the world_, he said… 

“I _ will _ write home about it, Hubert. A million times over.”

Affection and dread coalesce in Hubert’s veins, icing his limbs, vision, thoughts -- the summit -- Ferdinand, his affections -- it’s all too much, by far too much, and he’s overcome.

“Down. Now, _ now!_”

Only when they’re grounded -- when Ferdinand is muttering apologies -- is Hubert aware of his order, the palpable fear that forced it, and the fact they plummeted at all. 

It’s curious. Even while stumbling off the pegasus _ and _ vowing to _ never _ do this again … Hubert’s guilt comes to rival his anxiety. Preferring to think nothing of either sensation, he collapses into the grass, inelegant but far too fatigued to care. 

“Hubert! I’m so sorry.” Ferdinand abandons the beast and trots to Hubert with no hesitation, dropping to a knee before him. Feeling the tightness of his own throat, Hubert offers no response, reluctant to soil his dignity further. A mistake, given the strain that meets Ferdinand’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Hubert. You were doing so well, so I became far too bold, and I... I’ve never seen you like this, so--” 

“Stop.”

“--I can’t apologize enough for--”

“_Ferdinand!_” Hubert manages in a croak. Fingers coil into the sod as he searches for his words, however much he prefers not to find them; he can only imagine how childish he must sound. But it’s easier to deal with than Ferdinand’s crestfallen face.

“Ferdinand,” he attempts again. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need to. There’s nothing to forgive.”

Silence. Ferdinand’s eyes narrow into something pitiful. “I angered you so…?”

..._ Goddess_. 

“I mean -- I’m not upset. Not at you.”

“...Ah.”

It’s absolutely ridiculous how quickly Ferdinand’s expression neutralizes. His lips even hint at a smile, although something guilty remains stitched there. 

Ferdinand sighs, relaxing now and twisting his hips to sit comfortably, still watching Hubert. As much as Hubert hates the obvious weakness on his face being observed, he refrains from commenting and allows his own gaze to drift elsewhere, although it’s _ incredibly _ tempting to inform Ferdinand about his obvious staring.

“You know...” Fingers meet Hubert’s cheek, caressing skin that instantly blooms with crimson, obvious enough to summon Ferdinand’s cocky grin upon a face that reddens just the same.

Hubert’s blood stirs, pale eyes locked onto Ferdinand’s and widening with transparent shock once the ginger brushes Hubert’s hair aside, tucking away loose strands then admiring his own work. 

The touch lingers far too long, yet Hubert can’t muster a complaint. They simply sit together, staring, until Ferdinand sparks with a rapturous laugh, keeling over into Hubert’s shoulder so heavily that Hubert can feel the smile against his body. 

Hubert wonders if he’ll die with how absolutely _ impossible _ it is to breathe right now. 

“I got so distracted my words fled!” Ferdinand lolls his head to the side, watching Hubert from where he still rests against Hubert’s shoulder. “I was going to say… For as guilty as I feel, I think I’m happy about all this. Whether it’s fear or elation or anything else…” he hums. “I love to see more of you.”

Hubert flinches. “Is it ... not shameful? I’ve stood aside and watched my prey burn to ash, Ferdinand.” Awaiting a reaction, he pauses, but Ferdinand neither moves nor speaks. “I’m far too wicked to be experiencing unease about _ heights_.”

Half-expecting Ferdinand’s smile to fade, Hubert glances from his peripheral -- and wistful as it now is, the smile’s ever-present.

“You are not impervious to fear… Not even sorrow, or love. You do not have to like any of it, but you do have to accept it.” Ferdinand rests his arms around Hubert, sinking against him. Hubert attempts to raise his hands, but they drop quickly, relenting to being still as stone. “I’ll help you accept it.”

“...It’s not your burden to bear. Why bother?”

“It’s no burden...” Ferdinand’s eyes shutter. “I want the world to see you as more man than beast.”

This is the same soul Hubert once damned, once was so willing to make a victim of -- _ would _ have, if not for Edelgard’s insistence that Ferdinand was, truly, a good person and most likely removed from his father’s transgressions. Ignorant, yes; naive, yes, but… Well-meaning. Patient, when it matters. Bright and perpetual.

Just beautiful.

_ You are not impervious to fear, or sorrow_, Hubert echoes. _ Or love_. 

They stiffen and twitch with uncertainty, but arms stretch around Ferdinand, settling there with minimal confidence that’s trounced by a startling satisfaction. 

With a decaying aversion to intimacy, that’s one fear conquered tonight.

“I’m more man than beast in your eyes,” Hubert murmurs. “That’s all that matters.”

Ferdinand’s silence lingers for far too long, and Hubert frets. Was that too forward? Too genuine from a man like him? They were only friends, still, despite -- 

“Then, let us return here soon,” whispers Ferdinand, muffled against Hubert’s neck. The heat of his breath rolls electricity throughout Hubert’s body, the sensation a split-second of mysterious pleasure. “We can keep humanizing you. It doesn’t have to be about the fear.”

At a loss with such sincere dedication to a matter so trivial, Hubert can only fall silent. Ferdinand doesn’t ask for more, instead humming a slow song to fill the air. 

Hubert wishes for profound words, or anything to say at all -- anything that might distract himself from his trembling arms. It’s been a decade since he last experienced this sensation, and two since his futile vows to never experience it again. Perhaps he was meant to be fearless at birth; his father’s venom could be theorized no other way. 

However irrational it is to expect from Ferdinand, Hubert had prepared for annoyance. Impatience. Nothing armed him for apologies and reassurance that, sometimes, it’s not necessary to play the antagonist.

_ But only sometimes. _

The moment they depart, he’s back to the shadows. Back to a beast who thrives off fear in the eyes of adversaries, but can’t cope with his own.

Lingering anxiety inspires vulnerability. Hubert sighs, sloping his head atop Ferdinand’s and pulling the man -- so much braver, brighter -- further against his chest. The warmth of another is meant to be soothing, but with the embrace comes a sentiment more terrifying than terror itself: 

It’s foolish to fear the sky when he’s infatuated with the sun. 

**Author's Note:**

> the second and last and gayer chapter will come....... eventually.
> 
> [@idealistside](https://twitter.com/idealistside)


End file.
